Gai-Jin (10 page)

“Flatten the fing capital, by God …”

“Canterbury’s gotta be revenged, Wullum’s got to …”

“Right! Willum’s responsible, John the Cant’s me mate …”

“Listen, you lot …” One of the seated men began pounding the tabletop with a gavel for silence. This only incensed the crowd further—merchants, tradesmen, innkeepers, gamblers, horse handlers, butchers, jockeys, seamen, remittance men, sail makers, and port riffraff. Top hats, multicolored waistcoats, woolen clothes and underwear, leather boots, from rich to poor, the air hot, stale, smoky and heavy with the odor of unwashed bodies, stale beer, whisky, gin, rum and spilt wine.

“Quiet, for Christ’s sake, let Wullum speak…. ”

The man with the gavel shouted, “It’s William, for God’s sake! William, not Wullum or Willum or Willam!
William
Aylesbury, how many times do I have to tell you? William!”

“That’s right, let Willum speak, for Christ’s sake!”

The three barmen serving drinks behind the vast counter laughed. “Proper thirsty bloody work this ’ere meeting, i’nit, guv?” one called out breezily, wiping the counter with a filthy rag. The bar was the pride of the Settlement, deliberately a foot bigger than the one in the Shanghai Jockey Club, previously the biggest in Asia, and twice as big as the Hong Kong Club’s. The wall was lined with bottles of spirits, wine and beer kegs. “Let the bugger speak, for crissake!”

Sir William Aylesbury, the man with the gavel, sighed. He was British Minister in Japan, senior member of the Diplomatic Corps. The other men represented France, Russia, Prussia, and America. His temper snapped and he motioned to a young officer standing behind the table. At once, clearly prepared—as were those at the table—the officer took out a revolver and fired into the ceiling. Plaster speckled down in the sudden silence.

“Thank you. Now,” Sir William began, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “if you gentlemen will all be quiet for a moment we can proceed.” He was a tall man in his late forties, with a bent face and prominent ears. “I repeat, as you will all be affected by what we decide, my colleagues and I wish to discuss how to respond to this incident—in public. If you lot don’t want to
listen, or if you’re asked for an opinion and don’t give it with the minimum of expletives—we will ponder the matter in private and then, when we’ve decided what will happen, we will be glad to inform you.”

A muttering resentment, but no open hostility.

“Good. Mr. McFay, you were saying?”

Jamie McFay was near the front, Dmitri beside him. Because he was head of Struan’s, the largest house in Asia, McFay was the usual spokesman for the merchant-traders, the most important of whom had their own fleets of armed clippers and merchantmen. “Well, sir, we know the Satsumas are bedding down at Hodogaya in easy reach north and that their king’s with them,” he said, greatly concerned over Malcolm Struan. “His name’s Sajirro, some name like that, and I think we sh—”

Someone shouted, “I vote we surround the bastards tonight and string the bugger up!” A roar of applause that soon trickled away amidst a few muffled curses and, “For God’s sake, get on with it …”

“Please carry on, Mr. McFay,” Sir William said wearily.

“The attack was unprovoked, as usual, John Canterbury was foully brutalized, and God only knows how long it will take Mr. Struan to recover. But this is the first time we can identify the murderers—or at least the king can and as sure as God made little apples he has the power to catch the buggers and hand them over and pay damages…. ” More applause. “They’re within reach, and with the troops we have we can peg them.”

Strong cheers and cries for vengeance.

Henri Bonaparte Seratard, the French Minister in Japan, said loudly, “I would like to ask Monsieur the General and Monsieur the Admiral what is their opinion?”

The Admiral said at once: “I have five hundred marines in the fleet—”

General Thomas Ogilvy interrupted, firmly but politely, “The question applies to a land operation, my dear Admiral. Mr. Ceraturd …” The greying, red-faced man of fifty carefully mispronounced the Frenchman’s name and used “Mr.” to compound the insult, “we have a thousand British troops in tent encampments, two cavalry units, three batteries of the most modern cannon and artillery, and can call up another eight or nine thousand British and Indian infantrymen with support troops within two months from our Hong Kong bastion.” He toyed with his gold braid. “There is no conceivable problem that Her Majesty’s forces under my command cannot conclude expeditiously.”

“I agree,” the Admiral said under the roars of approval. When they had died down, Seratard said smoothly, “Then you advocate a declaration of war?”

“No such thing, sir,” the General said, their dislike mutual. “I merely said we can do what is necessary, when necessary and when we are obliged
to do it. I would have thought this ‘incident’ is a matter for Her Majesty’s Minister to decide in conjunction with the Admiral and myself without an unseemly debate.”

Some shouted approval, most disapproved and someone called out, “It’s our silver and taxes wot pays for all you buggers, we’ve the right to say wot’s wot. Ever heard of Parliament, by God?”

“A French national was involved,” Seratard said heatedly above the noise, “therefore the honor of France is involved.” Catcalls and sly remarks about the girl.

Again Sir William used the gavel and that allowed the acting American Minister, Isaiah Adamson, to say coldly, “The idea of going to war over this incident is nonsense, and the notion of grabbing or attacking a king in their sovereign country total lunacy—and typical high-handed Imperialist jingoism! First thing to do is inform the Bakufu, then ask them to—”

Irritably, Sir William said, “Dr. Babcott has already informed them in Kanagawa, they’ve already denied any knowledge of the incident and in all probability will follow their pattern and continue to do so. A British subject has been brutally murdered, another seriously wounded, unforgivably our delightful young foreign guest was almost frightened to death—these acts, I must stress, as Mr. McFay so rightly points out,
for the first time have been committed by identifiable criminals
. Her Majesty’s Government will not let this go unpunished…. ” For a moment he was drowned by tumultuous cheers, then he added, “The only thing to decide is the measure of punishment, how we should proceed and when. Mr. Adamson?” he asked the American.

“As we’re not involved I’ve no formal recommendation.”

“Count Zergeyev?”

“My formal advice,” the Russian said carefully, “is that we fall on Hodogaya and tear it and all the Satsumas to pieces.” He was in his early thirties, strong, patrician and bearded, leader of Tsar Alexander II’s mission. “Force, massive, ferocious and immediate is the only diplomacy Japanners will ever understand. My warship would be honored to lead the attack.”

There was a curious silence. I guessed that would be your answer, Sir William thought. I’m not so sure you’re wrong. Ah, Russia, beautiful extraordinary Russia, what a shame we’re enemies. Best time I ever had was in St. Petersburg. Even so, you’re not going to expand into these waters, we stopped your invasion of the Japanese Tsushima islands last year, and this year we’ll prevent you from stealing their Sakhalin too. “Thank you, my dear Count. Herr von Heimrich?”

The Prussian was elderly and curt. “I have no advice in this, Herr Consul General, other than to say formally my government would consider it is a matter for your government alone, and not the affair of minor parties.”

Seratard flushed. “I do not consider—”

“Thank you for your advice, gentlemen,” Sir William said firmly, cutting off the row that would have flared between them. Yesterday’s Foreign Office dispatches from London said that Britain could soon become embroiled in another of the never-ending European wars, this time belligerent, pride-filled France against belligerent, pride-filled expansionist Prussia, but did not forecast on which side. Why the devil damned foreigners can’t behave as civilized fellows I’m damned if I know.

“Before making a judgment,” he said crisply, “since everyone of note is here and not having had such an opportunity before, I think we should articulate our problem: we have legal treaties with Japan. We’re here to trade, not to conquer territory. We have to deal with this bureaucracy, the Bakufu, who’re like a sponge—one moment it pretends to be all-powerful, the next helpless against their individual kings. We’ve never been able to get to the real power, the Tycoon or Shōgun—we don’t even know if he really exists.”

“He must exist,” von Heimrich said coolly, “because our famous German traveller and physician, Dr. Engelbert Kaempfer, who lived in Deshima from 1690 to 1693, pretending to be a Dutchman, reported visiting him in Yedo on their annual pilgrimage.”

“That doesn’t prove one exists now,” Seratard said caustically. “How ever, I do agree there is a Shōgun, and France approves of a direct approach.”

“An admirable idea, Monsieur.” Sir William reddened. “And how do we do that?”

“Send the fleet against Yedo,” the Russian said at once. “Demand an immediate audience or else you’ll destroy the place. If I had such a beautiful fleet as yours, I’d first flatten half the city and then demand the audience … better, I would order this Tycoon-Shōgun native to report aboard my flagship at dawn the next day, and hang him.” Many shouts of approval.

Sir William said, “That is certainly one way, but Her Majesty’s Government would prefer a slightly more diplomatic solution. Next: we’ve almost no real intelligence about what’s going on in the country. I’d appreciate it if all traders would help to get us information that could prove useful. Mr. McFay, of all the traders, you should be the best informed. Can you help?”

McFay said cautiously, “Well, a few days ago one of our Jappo silk suppliers told our Chinese compradore that some of the kingdoms—he used the word ‘fiefs’ and called the kings ‘daimyos’—were in revolt against the Bakufu, particularly Satsuma, and some parts called Tosa, and Choshu …”

Sir William noticed the immediate interest of the other diplomats and wondered if he was wise to have asked the question in public. “Where are they?”

“Satsuma’s near Nagasaki in the South Island, Kyūshū,” Adamson said, “but what about Choshu and Tosa?”

“Well, now, yor Honor,” an American seaman called out, his Irish accent pleasing. “Tosa’s a part of Shikoku, that’s the big island on the inland sea. Choshu’s far to the west on the main island, Mr. Adamson, sir, athwart the Straits. We been through the Straits there, many a time, they’re not more than a mile across at the narrowest part. As I was saying now, Choshu’s the kingdom’s athwart the narrows, bare a mile across. It’s the best, and closest way from Hong Kong or Shanghai to here. Shimonoseki Straits, the locals call it, and once we traded for fish and water at the town there but we weren’t welcome.” Many others called out their agreement and that they too had used the Straits but had never known that the kingdom was called Choshu.

Sir William said, “Your name, if you please?”

“Paddy O’Flaherty, Bosun of the American whaler
Albatross
out of Seattle, yor Honor.”

“Thank you,” Sir William said, and made a mental note to send for O’Flaherty, to find out more and if there were charts of the area, and if not to instantly order the Navy to make them. “Go on, Mr. McFay,” he said. “In revolt, you say.”

“Yes, sir. This silk trader—how reliable he is I don’t know—but he said there was some kind of power struggle going on against the Tycoon that he always called ‘Shōgun,’ the Bakufu and some king or daimyo called Toranaga.”

Sir William saw the Russian’s eyes slit even more in his almost Asian features. “Yes, my dear Count?”

“Nothing, Sir William. But isn’t that the name of the ruler mentioned by Kaempfer?”

“Indeed it is, indeed it is.” I wonder why you never mentioned to me before that you also had read those very rare but illuminating journals that were written in German, which you do not know, therefore they must have been translated into Russian? “Perhaps ‘Toranaga’ means ‘ruler’ in their language. Please continue, Mr. McFay.”

“That’s all the fellow told my compradore, but I’ll make it my business to find out more. Now,” McFay said politely but firmly, “do we settle King Satsuma at Hodogaya tonight or not?”

The smoke stirred the silence.

“Has anyone anything to add—about this revolt?”

Norbert Greyforth, chief of Brock and Sons, Struan’s main rival, said, “We’ve heard rumors of this revolt too. But I thought it was something to do with their chief priest, this ‘Mikado,’ who supposedly lives in Kyōto, a city near Osaka. I’ll make enquiries as well. In the meantime, about tonight,
my vote goes with McFay: the sooner we belt these buggers the sooner we’ll have peace.” He was taller than McFay and clearly hated him.

When the cheers died down, like a judge delivering a sentence, Sir William said: “This is what will happen. First, there will be no attack tonight and—”

Cries of “Resign!” “We’ll do it ourselves, by God!” “Come on, let’s go after the bastards …”

“We can’t, not without troops …”

“Quiet and listen, by God!” Sir William shouted. “If anyone is stupid enough to go against Hodogaya tonight he’ll have to answer to our laws as well as Japanners.
IT IS FORBIDDEN!
Tomorrow I will formally demand—demand—that at once the Bakufu, and Shōgun, tender a formal apology, at once hand over the two murderers for trial and hanging, and at once pay an indemnity of one hundred thousand pounds or accept the consequences.”

A few cheered, most did not, and the meeting broke up with a surge to the bar, many of the men already near blows as arguments became more drunken and more heated. McFay and Dmitri shoved their way out into the open air. “My God, that’s better.” McFay eased off his hat and mopped his brow.

“A word, Mr. McFay?”

He turned and saw Greyforth. “Of course.”

“In private, if you please.”

McFay frowned, then moved over the semideserted promenade along the wharfs and seafront, away from Dmitri, who was not in Struan’s but traded through Cooper-Tillman, one of the American companies. “Yes?”